The Jeans You Thought Still Fit

You’re digging through your wardrobe, not really looking for anything specific, when you spot them —a forgotten pair of jeans buried deep in the back, folded like a time capsule from a different era.

And for one unhinged second, your brain whispers,“

Oh my god… I used to LOVE these

.…Surely they still fit.”

Even though, deep down, you already know the truth.

But women are hopeful creatures.

Delusional, but hopeful.

So you step in.

One leg.

Then the other.

And for a moment, the denim moves.

You think, “Maybe…? Maybe?”

Until it halts halfway up your thighs like a hard NO from the universe.

A sensible person would stop there.

But you?

You remember the shapewear.

The industrial-grade spandex that promises to “smooth everything,” even though putting it on feels like trying to shrink-wrap a watermelon.

You wiggle into it anyway.

It rolls.

It squeezes.

It cuts off a mild-to-moderate amount of oxygen.

But you persevere because this is a mission now.

Then comes the real battle —jumping, hopping, bed-flopping, contorting your body into angles chiropractors would faint over.

You’re puffed.

You’re sweating.

You are genuinely questioning whether this counts as cardio.

At one point, you’re lying flat on your back, denim halfway up, legs in the air like a confused beetle, praying gravity will take pity on you.

Eventually — miraculously — they slide up.

Not gracefully.

Not comfortably.

But enough to button them with the strength of a thousand ancestors.

You stand.

You breathe in a shallow, panicked way.

You realise you now have the posture of a Victorian child who wasn’t allowed to bend at the waist.

Sitting down?

Absolutely not.

And that’s when it settles in —

these jeans belonged to another version of you.

A woman from a different season, with a different body, a different softness, a different life.

And somehow, it’s funny and tender all at once.

Because every woman has had this moment —

the hopeful try, the ridiculous struggle, the quiet laugh, the gentle acceptance.

Some clothes don’t fit anymore.

But the woman you’ve become?

She fits you perfectly.